Fate Veil of Death
by Silver0Shard
Summary: Harry stumbles upon a book that should not have been in the Hogwarts library in the first place, but what was read could not be forgotten.
1. Chapter 1 Throne of Heroes

AN: There should be a disclaimer, but I think it's rather obvious that I own neither Harry Potter, nor Fate/stay night.

On a more pleasant and productive note, this is technically a crossover, but it will not go very far beyond the HP universe, so knowldge of Fate/stay night is actually not needed. Everything relevant will be mentioned in the fanfic itself.

* * *

Chapter 1. Throne of Heroes

Harry wanted to shout in frustration as he slammed another book shut and sent it to its shelf. Alas, making loud sounds in the middle of the night in the Restricted Section was ill-advised. Instead, he just pinched his nose bridge and shook his head. It was pointless. Three sleepless nights and he had no results to show for all his utterly wasted efforts.

He understood very well that he was at a serious disadvantage. After all, how could a barely average fourth-year hope to compare to the best seventh-years Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had to offer? The answer was morbidly short and simple, one that Harry would rather not speak outloud. Unfortunately, problems had a tendency of not going away when not being thought of, Harry's especially. The deadly Triwizard tournament was nothing to scoff at, and if the likes of Moody were to be believed then this situation was a particularly nasty one.

" _So maybe someone is hoping that Potter_ would _die in it?"_

And loath as Harry was to admit it, the man had a point, and thus his single quiet year at Hogwarts did not happen — again. Instead, someone, probably Voldemort, was after his life once more. With the entire school, Gryffindor house included, having turned away from him, there were scarce few people Harry could go to for help. Unfortunately, most of them were far away, and going to Mad-Eye Moody to share his anxieties — well, that was a funny joke. One that the old auror would surely not appreciate.

Therefore the only answer remained — the library. This is where he had been spending time since the selection ceremony and where he was now, browsing and looking for anything that might help. Not even the Restricted Section was spared his ruthless search for magical power and knowledge. It was rather fascinating really, all those books held so much valuable information, most of which was inaccessible to Harry because he was frankly too incompetent as a wizard. Four years of substandard effort let themselves be known at the most inopportune moment. As always.

A long-suffering sigh later Harry took another random book from the shelf.

With a start, he realised that it did not belong here. Where other tomes were battered and old, this one looked positively ancient, held together by some miracle. Harry tentatively opened it, careful not to destroy such a priceless artefact. " _The Throne of Heroes"_ it read on the first page. There was nothing else.

"Huh," Harry said, looking over the name again. The tome itself looked like it was older than Hogwarts, yet the language of its title was modern English. That piqued his interest, even if judging by the name, this was probably a history book or something of the sort. Still, the language was simple, lacking any of the complicated terminology that plagued all the previous texts. Besides, it was quite an interesting read, so interesting in fact, that Harry didn't notice as hours passed until the first ray of sunlight fell on the weathered page.

His head snapped to look at the window. The sun was rising. It was probably around six in the morning.

"Crap," he swore and closed the book. The legends described there were interesting, he became too engrossed in them for his own good and failed to notice how he had spent the entire night in the library. "Hermione would be proud if she knew," he said with a wry smile.

In the end, Harry decided to take the book with him, no harm in reading about legends after all. Besides, the nameless author had a unique perspective on what happened to those who lived great lives. It was a stress relief if nothing else… More useful than any other book Harry was able to find. He stashed it in his bag and after hastily putting on the invisibility cloak sprinted to the Gryffindor tower. Sleep was out of the question, but perhaps he could catch a cold shower and a cup of coffee to keep him awake through the lessons. Especially since he had bloody Snape this day.

It was somewhat helpful in the end, but Harry was still feeling sleepy when he entered the potions classroom a couple hours later. Fortunately, he wasn't either the first or the last one to come so his appearance didn't draw too much attention. He was almost hoping for a decent lesson, when Snape entered, cloak billowing and all, and turned his glare on Harry.

"Potter," his smooth voice was filled with enough malice that Harry was surprised it hadn't yet taken a physical form. "What, pray tell, have you come here for?"

"I'm sorry, sir?" Harry looked at the man in confusion, which only served to annoy the professor more.

"Where are your supplies, Potter?" Snape drawled. "Have you come here expecting some idle chatter?"

Harry glanced at the table in front of him and with dawning horror realized that due to his sleepiness he forgot to set up his station. Fortunately, all the supplies were in his bag. Accompanied by the snickers from slytherins and glares from his own housemates, Harry took out his cauldron, vials, tools and ingredients.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape raised an eyebrow at the display, "for your tardiness. Ten more for being a heedless dunderhead. Set up your station quietly so that the rest of the class doesn't have to be distracted due to your ineptness."

Harry really wanted to glare at the man but found it difficult to focus on just not dropping all the tools and ingredients he was handling. He hastily put everything in order and started taking notes after the greasy git of a professor. Wit-sharpening potion. He sure could use some right now. Harry listened to the lecture, even wrote it down after Snape, but found that his comprehension was near to non-existent. It was no surprise that the next period his potion was dirty-brown instead of dark-orange.

Snape, the ever watchful git, stopped right next to his cauldron and sneered. "I wonder if my efforts in putting something into that hollow brain of yours will ever pay off, Mr Potter," the man drawled. Sometimes Harry wondered if Snape was drawing satisfaction from his misery. "The potion was supposed to simmer for 10 minutes, not all of eternity. Moreover, too much ginger root. Do spare us your incompetence," Snape vanished Harry's potion with a flick of his wand, "and go amuse yourself without subjecting everyone around you to your foolishness, if it is even possible."

With that Snape turned around and resumed his stalking around the classroom, occasionally snapping at gryffindors, much to the amusement of slytherins. Whoever decided that pairing up the two houses was a good idea clearly needed a reality check. No matter, Harry quickly gathered his supplies and left the classroom.

On his way to the Great Hall, Harry couldn't help but complain internally. His potion was certainly better than that of Crabbe and Goyle. Hell, he just forgot to take it off the fire in time and added a little bit too much ginger root. Damn his lack of sleep. Well, no time for self-pity, which Harry despised anyway, there were more pressing matters. He was still an inept fourth-year. There was his skill in DADA and some above-average power, but other than that he had no advantages over the other champions… Come to think of it, above average power for a fourth-year couldn't really be considered an advantage over seventh-years.

Dinner proved to be an uncomfortable affair. His housemates still glared at him whenever he was in the same room as them, and the Great Hall was no exception. Therefore, Harry just took out the book about heroes and resumed reading where he left off.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Hermione's voice asked behind him. Harry hastily snapped the book close and turned to look at the girl.

"Um... I'm ok, Hermione," he replied. "Is there something I can help you with?"

While Hermione didn't actively ostracise him, this was the first time she had spoken to him since the selection ceremony. And that was four days ago. To be honest, Harry was somewhat surprised she was even talking to him. He half-expected Hermione to side with Ron, who was ignoring him at the best of times and then smearing him behind his back.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione sat beside him. There was enough space after all, considering that no one from Gryffindor wanted to sit near the "traitor". "I was just trying to persuade Ron to give up his grudge. I know you didn't put your name into the Goblet. It's ridiculous how no one else can see it," she huffed.

"See what?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued. He wasn't sure if it was an excuse or not, but Hermione was his best friend, at least he hoped she was, so the benefit of the doubt was only fair.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes, "you're not the type of person to do this. They think you're some kind of glory hound. Unlike everyone else though, I know you, Harry. Just as Ron should. I know you don't 'bask in glory' and 'desperately seek attention' as some put it."

Harry stared at the girl for several seconds. Relief and suspicion wrestled in his mind. In the end, he decided to trust her. Hermione was always there for him in the past. What kind of friend would he be if he turned her down now, especially when she was the only one on his side.

"Thanks, Hermione," he replied sincerely. "It means a lot, really."

"Harry, I'm your friend," Hermione said as if it explained everything. "We'll need to get you ready for the first task and since we know nothing about it, I think you should concentrate on the DADA, it is your best subject after all. I'll try to find something useful in other schools of magic, but let's do what we can right now."

"Alright," Harry allowed himself a small smile. Scheming with friends was something he sorely missed during these four days of isolation.

"Let's go to the library then?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"I think we should finish our meal first," Harry smirked. "Especially since you've only just started."

Hermione turned to look at her empty plate in confusion until a rumble in her stomach proved Harry right. She blushed and nodded.

"By the way, what's that book you were reading just now?" she asked, piling food on her plate.

"Just some light reading for stress relief," Harry shrugged and returned to his own meal.

-xxx-

All in all, the day had been rather productive, Harry thought as he lay in his bed that night. Hermione managed to find some useful hexes, as well as surprisingly easy transfiguration spells that Harry could utilize in a fight. He wanted to smack himself when he saw just where she got them. Your usual open-to-everyone sections of the library. Yep. Not even the Restricted Section. So much wasted time…

Still, those spells were a start, but they didn't change the fundamental problem. The other students knew so much more and were more powerful. The tasks would be tailored to them, and whoever put his name into the Goblet would make sure his trials were especially deadly. Harry needed a trump card. Some kind of ace up his sleeve to help him should he be backed into a corner. He turned the page of his book about heroes with a sigh. The legend of Sun Tzu was interesting, but it also came to an end...

The contents of the following page surprised him. It contained a diagram or rather an image of a circle with some unknown symbols. Below it was a weird chant. The title though was what shocked Harry. " _Summoning a Heroic Spirit"._ Harry stared at the text dumbly for a whole minute before his mind kicked in and started thinking over all the possibilities this piece of knowledge opened. That night Harry went to bed with some hope for the first time this week.

The next day was a Saturday and so Harry had no lessons. Thus he excused himself after breakfast, not that anyone cared aside from Hermione, who was pacified by the excuse of him needing some time to fly to relax. In truth, Harry went to the only place in the castle where he was sure no one would be able to disturb him or spy on him. Yes, he was turning rather paranoid, but being entered into a deadly tournament tended to have such effects.

The Chamber of Secrets met him in all its morbid decadent glory. The dead body of a thousand-year-old basilisk was still there, just as he left it two years ago. Looking back at it, well, Harry understood why some people found it hard to believe he could have slain the beast. The body was huge. Even now the snake could have swallowed him whole, had it been alive of course.

Well, no time to dawdle.

The circle was not perfect even after three attempts at drawing it. Maybe it was because of the chalk or uneven floor, but Harry suspected that his ineptitude was at least partially to blame. He had never been good at painting. Finally, he finished with the last symbol and took a step back to admire the results of his labour. It took more than an hour to set everything up but he was finally ready. Harry took the book and started the chant.

" _I hereby declare._

 _Your body shall serve under me,_

 _My fate shall be your sword,_

 _Submit to the beckoning of my magic_

 _If you submit to this will and this reason… Then answer!"_

There was a visible change in the air from the magic that suddenly poured from the circle. It was oppressive and pure, unyielding and demanding. The shadows grew as light — wherever it was coming from in the first place — dimmed. Harry felt his wand heat up in his pocket. He wanted to hiss in pain but knew better. It would interrupt the chant. After all, he knew pain and could handle some heat.

" _An oath shall be sworn here!_

 _I shall attain all virtues of Heaven,_

 _I shall have dominion over all evils of all the Hell!"_

The summoning circle lit up and illuminated the Chamber with its pale unholy green light. Harry felt something pulling at his heart and wand burning through the fabric of his pocket, but even this was not enough to stop him.

" _From the Seventh Heaven, attained to by three great words of power,_

 _Come forth from the ring of restraints,_

 _Protector of the Holy Balance!"_

The Chamber shook from the primordial force that made reality itself tremble at the mere idea of it. The same force threw Harry violently away from the circle. It was a painful landing that greeted him in the middle of a pool of frosty water. He was quick to get to the dry portion of the Chamber though and eagerly looked toward the circle.

"I have been summoned by a foolish clueless brat," the person inside the circle spoke with a quiet sigh. It was a male figure that managed to look imposing even if its height was nothing above average. Harry saw a man, dressed like he was from 1920's, look at him with burning green eyes. Not even round glasses could temper their intensity.

"No way…" Harry breathed. It was an older version of himself standing there, scowling.

"I'd ask if you were my master," the clone said, "but we both know the answer. Only one idiot is foolish enough to summon the Master of Death, even unintentionally."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked in absolute bewilderment as he walked toward the doppelganger. "You're — me."

"How astute," the elder Harry drawled in a Snape-like manner. "Do you not remember summoning me?"

"I was summoning a Heroic Spirit from the Throne of Heroes!" Harry argued. All he got was a raised eyebrow.

"And you succeeded."

"But then," Harry looked over his elder copy again, "how did you become a Heroic Spirit?"

"An irrelevant question at the moment," the elder Harry cut him off. "I'd rather know why you needed to summon a Heroic Spirit in the first place."

"The Triwizard tournament," Harry groused, looking down. "Are you really me? Why don't you remember it then?"

"I am not entirely you," the doppelgänger shook his head as he took out a wand and conjured two chairs for them to seat in. "I for one did not summon a Heroic Spirit for the tournament."

"How did you survive then?" Harry asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

"I believe," the doppelgänger replied with a wry smile, "you are familiar with the phrase 'sheer dumb luck'," he said.

"No way," Harry laughed. He grew serious. "Will you help me?"

"I would be remiss in my duty as a Heroic Spirit if I didn't," the spirit sighed. "I can't really tell you the future, but I can prepare you for it, so we'll start your training today."

"Training?" Harry asked in honest surprise.

"Yes, training, I won't solve all your problems for you," the elder man rolled his eyes. "I forgot how much of a lazy brat I used to be in my youth," he muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Hey!" Harry cried with indignation. "By the way," he said, attempting to steer the conversation away from evaluation of working ethic, "how do I call you?"

"You know my name," the spirit raised an eyebrow.

"I know," Harry sighed. "But it's just weird, you know…"

The spirit stared at Harry, it's gaze letting him know everything the doppelgänger thought of his intelligence.

"Fine," the spirit sighed. "Call me Henry, it's close enough."

* * *

AN2: This is a response to The Modern Sorcerer's "A Helping Hand" challenge:

"When his name is pulled from the Goblet of Fire and he is forced to compete, Harry Potter doesn't mess around. He knows he isn't qualified or powerful enough to survive this Tournament on his own, so using a handy little book found in the library, Harry performs an ancient ritual to call for a helping hand. He really should have read the fine print first."


	2. Chapter 2 Myself, a slave-driver

Chapter 2. Myself, a slave driver

The next day, a Sunday, Harry had to not only explain where he spent the entire previous day to Hermione but to also think of an excuse to go to the Chamber again. Needless to say, Henry was very amused by his hardships, and he was privy to all of them, after all, Heroic Spirits were immaterial and could follow their masters (however loosely this term could be applied in Harry's case) in spirit form, unnoticed by anyone.

After a lot of verbal maneuvering and apologizing he managed to save himself from Hermione's wrath and more importantly her curiosity, and made his way to the Chamber of Secrets. Henry appeared in the middle of the large hall, telling Harry to take out his wand.

"I know you have a particularly thick head," the spirit rolled his eyes, "but if you hope to ever master magic, you'll need to grasp the theory and its finer aspects. Therefore, I will pound them into your head. I suggest you get ready."

That was all the greetings and for that matter warning Harry received before a barrage of spells assaulted him.

"You're dodging my spells, that's not too bad," Henry idly noted. "Remember to think outside of the box when confronted with unknown problems. But closer to the topic of magical theory… I'm sending jinxes, curses and hexes at you right now. Care to tell me what I'm not sending your way?"

"Charms," Harry panted as he dodged multitude of vibrant flashes of light that sailed past him. "And…" he narrowly escaped a particularly nasty-looking spell. "And transfiguration spells."

"Indeed, let's correct that mistake, shall we?" Henry smirked coldly.

Harry cursed as now not only was he dodging potentially harmful spells, but also some random pieces of stone that suddenly decided to transform into pikes and attack him, as well as various natural elements, like fire and water.

"Now I think it's getting quite hard to dodge," Henry observed as he sat down on a conjured chair. That was when Harry noticed that his elder doppelgänger wasn't using a wand. All those spells the spirit was sending at him simply appeared all around him seemingly from thin air. Just how the hell did Henry get to this level?! "You should really start using your wand or I'll have to start questioning your mental capacity."

"I can use my wand?!" Harry exclaimed in surprise as he dodged another spell ande vaded a rampant pike.

"Were you forbidden from it?" Henry raised an eyebrow. Harry was really starting to dislike the gesture.

"Bloody hell," Harry took out his wand and started blasting pikes apart with a basic _bombarda._ Still, he was forced to continue dodging spells.

"Now why don't you tell me about the basic schools of transfiguration?" Henry asked, not stopping his barrage.

"Are you really expecting me to answer that while jumping and sprinting?!" Harry shouted in frustration, sidestepping another vicious-looking purple beam.

"Be grateful I am not having you do that while swimming," Henry chuckled. "Of course, we'll have to teach you swimming for that… In any case," he conjured a glass of what looked like wine and took a sip, "you should be able to recite knowledge in the heat of battle, otherwise how can you trust yourself to be able to utilize it? Add to that your exceptionally thick skull that only allows knowledge in when it's essential to keeping said skull on its shoulders and I can think of no better lesson plan," the spirit chuckled. "Besides, you were foolish enough to summon me, now face the music."

"I never thought I'd become a psychotic slave-driver," Harry panted. "Alright, it's transmutation, conjugation and animate-based transfiguration. Can we at least slow down with all those curses?"

"Do you think your enemies will let you take a break?" Henry smiled at Harry is if he were a small baby. "Now, tell me, why does Gamp's Law even exist?"

"The hell should I know?!" Harry snapped as he blasted another pike apart.

"Tut-tut," Henry shook his head, and another curse shot right into Harry's ankle from behind his back, making him stumble and scream in pain as the bones were broken.

"You piece of- !" Harry screamed, cradling his ankle and rolling on the ground to avoid incoming spells, because Henry was apparently not going to relent despite the injury. "Would you bloody stop!"

"Curse me all you want," Henry was suddenly standing right in front of Harry, looking down at his beaten form. "But as long as you are an inadequate little brat, you'll follow my training regimen. Now get up!" the spirit waved his hand and the ankle mended itself with a painful _snap_. This time Harry bit into his check to keep himself from screaming. "Get up," Henry ordered coldly.

Harry had no choice but to obey. He did however, start questioning his decision to summon a Heroic Spirit.

"For your information," Henry once again materialized in his conjured chair. "Gamp's Law exists because every transfiguration is held together by your magic, which is in turn directed by the idea you put into a transfigured or conjured object. If the idea is faulty, then the transfiguration will either not work at all or fail sooner rather than later. Care to tell me what this has to do with food?"

"Maybe it's because we're meant to consume food?" Harry speculated. Henry just raised an eyebrow. Merlin, now he was starting to hate the gesture. "I mean, we conjure food for it to exist, but then we consume it and erase it from existence to be transformed into something else. So it's fundamentally temporary and can never serve as sustenance because it will eventually disappear."

"Why then does water work?" Henry asked, eyebrow still raised. Harry was wondering if there was a spell to stop someone from maintaining this stupid gesture. Surely he wasn't the first person in all of history who was extremely annoyed by it.

"We just drink, don't we?" Harry replied before he could think it through. "It doesn't change, it remains the same water even if we consume it."

"Not too bad," Henry nodded, bringing a small smile to Harry's face. It didn't last though, as barrage of spells continued a moment later. "Now let's examine the main aspects of transfiguration in general, such as visualization for example…"

Harry groaned. It was going to be a long and painful training session, and year…

-xxx-

It was four hours later that Harry was allowed a brief respite — to have dinner. Henry didn't care to give him any time to shower and clean off all the sweat and grime on his body and clothes accumulated throughout the training session and just used a ridiculously overpowered cleaning charm which left all of Harry's skin irritated. Not that Harry cared all that much, but judging by the smug feeling that simply oozed from the Heroic Spirit, Henry could have done everything without such side-effects, but simply decided not to as another lesson. Honestly, Harry couldn't care less even if he tried, he was ravenous and devoured two helpings of dinner in minutes before sprinting back to the Chamber.

"Let's continue now," Henry said as he sat back into the same conjured chair. "Sit," he gestured at a certain spot on the stone floor, where a small rug conveniently appeared. "We'll start enhancing that mind of yours. I assume you know nothing about mind arts?" there it was again, the hated raised eyebrow which made Harry scowl.

"No," came Harry's gruff reply.

"Splendid," Henry didn't hesitate to send sarcasm his way. "It is essential though, so you'll have to learn it. There is only one problem though…" the spirit trailed off.

"Which is?" Harry prompted, finally seating on the carpet.

"You're an impatient brat," Henry replied bluntly. Harry's scowl deepened. "It's almost like you are the perfect antithesis to the mind arts, which require extreme patience and dedication."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed. "I can be dedicated — and patient!"

"Really?" the raised eyebrow went just a tad higher, giving Henry's face an incredulous look, rather than that of superiority and mild annoyance it had before. "When did it show? Was it when you calmly set down at Hagrid's hut during that whole dragon incident and carefully considered your options?" The spirit mock-inquired. "Oh wait! No, it wasn't. You just chose the first answer to present itself. Maybe you were really patient when you blew up your aunt Marge?" the doppelgänger continued his ruthless assault.

"She insulted my parents!" Harry argued. "That… That _hag,_ " he spit out the last word, "she dared…"

"As do all of slytherins on daily basis," Henry drawled. "Do the words 'mudblood' and 'blood traitor' ring a bell?" the spirit leaned back in his chair. Harry's jaw clenched as he was forced to swallow his rage. The Marge incident still elicited extreme hatred from him even if the Heroic Spirit had a point.

"Fine," he bit out. His voice was cold enough to freeze the Black Lake several times over.

"Then again," Henry continued his assault, unconcerned by Harry's reaction, "I guess running after Sirius Black, who as far as you knew at the time was a mass murderer, was a rather well-considered decision. Hm…" the spirit shook his head. "Nope. Just another foolish stunt of an impulsive brat."

"Shut up!" Harry leapt from his feet. "How- How dare you!" he pointed his wand at the spirit. "You know nothing! Nothing!"

"You've just proven my point," Henry sighed. Harry's wand was suddenly yanked from his grasp and he himself was thrown to the side and landed on his back. "I only had to use a couple of phrases to utterly decimate your focus and turn you into an angry little boy who is painfully predictable and easy to defeat."

Harry clenched his teeth and stood up, walking to his wand on stiff legs and picking it up. His glare was directed at the Elder doppelgänger all the while. "As if you've never done it," he bit out.

"I did all of this," Henry replied, his voice calm as he sipped his wine. Was it even real wine? Harry decided there were other issues at hand. "And a great deal more," green eyes looked into identical ones. "If you want to spare yourself a lot of suffering, you'll learn to deal with your anger and your emotions. You'll learn how to maintain focus on a given task and how to resist your enemies' jabs. You'll learn to control your temper and I will help you. Whether you want it or not," the spirit spoke dispassionately. "I know what approach to take… You clearly don't care much about cookies, so I'll just use the stick."

Harry looked at the spirit in an incoherent mix of confusion and anger.

"Sit down," Henry ordered. Harry held back a biting reply and obeyed. Even in this horrible mood he could still see the point. Henry disarmed him with only one spell, where before Harry would have easily dodged it. "Good," the spirit nodded. "Now I want you to meditate. Clear your mind. I'll prod you, and should you react… Well," Henry smirked, "You won't like the result. Let's start. Close your eyes."

With a string of grumbles Harry complied. Now he could only hear Henry's voice.

"Think of something pleasant, a nice abstract feeling," Henry instructed. "I think flying will work best for you," he added not hiding his amusement.

It actually did. Harry had to acknowledge that he did like flying — it was relaxing and liberating. The feeling of weightlessness and the air against his skin was some of the best in the world.

"Good, now try to concentrate on this feeling and do not to let me distract you," Henry added with a laugh and poked Harry hard in the side with some sort of stick.

"Auch!" Harry cried and opened his eyes. "You didn't say it would be painful!"

"Here we go again," Henry rolled his eyes and threw a stinging hex at Harry's behind, which prompted the teen to yelp. "I told you to not let me break your concentration, and yet all I needed to do was to poke you — once."

"It was sudden!" argued Harry.

"And I guess those trying to read your mind will be kind enough to give you a warning in advance," Henry snarked. "Shall we continue or do you need another stinging hex?"

"Let's get on with it," Harry sighed. When had his older self become so insufferable… It was almost like talking to a nicer version of Snape. Could there ever be a nicer version of Snape? A question for the philosophers.

"Then do get on with it," Henry rolled his eyes. "You're the one with lessons tomorrow and homework to be done. If you intend to attend lessons that is..."

 _Crap_. Harry heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, remembering that feeling of flying again. Homework was out of his control right now so no point in worrying over it.

"Yes," Henry said. "Good," there was a jab at his other side, but this time Harry held on to the feeling of flight. There was another sharp poke in his cheek, and he hissed in annoyance and almost slipped, but managed to regain his balance at the last second. "Not too shabby," the spirit commented. "Let's continue."

-xxx-

Harry came back to the Gryffindor tower late that evening, sore all over, thoroughly insulted, but oddly satisfied at managing to withstand seven pokes from Henry before his focus snapped.

The common room was just like usual. Full of people and chatter; despite everything it was still rather warm and even appeared welcoming, at least until one looked at its residents. All of them noticed him entering. While some glared, most just ignored him. Except Hermione. She accosted him as soon as she saw him and dragged Harry to one of the corners. There were two unoccupied chairs which they sat it. The fireplace was not too far, so it was really warm, a welcome difference from cool and wet Chamber of Secrets.

"Where have you been, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. It was impossible to miss her posture though: the girl was not letting the matter go before she received a satisfactory answer. Harry really had to appreciate Hermione's discretion. Ron would have just yelled for everyone to hear.

"I was just training," he replied. It _was_ honest after all. Harry wondered though whether he should just tell Hermione the truth. She was his friend after all, he wasn't used to keeping big secrets from her and Ron.

"Training?" Hermione blinked. "Could you be any more vague, Harry? I'm not sure you managed to conceal everything you wanted," she said, appearing quite cross with him.

"Look, I'm sorry, Hermione," he sighed. "I'm just… I don't know if I can tell you," Harry finished, looking to his right where Henry materialized in his spirit form.

"I don't particularly care," the spirit waved his hand dismissively, "she's your friend, not mine."

"I thought…" Harry started.

"That I were you?" Henry gave him a wry smile, even as Hermione watched on in confusion. It sure must have looked weird, Harry having a one-sided conversation with thin air. "I already told you," Henry shook his head, "I didn't summon a Heroic Spirit. By the way," the spirit looked at Harry, "I suggest you get on with your little conversation before Hermione starts suspecting some mental disorder at play."

Harry sighed again. "Alright, I'll tell you everything, Hermione," he looked at his friend, who was staring at him oddly. "And no, I'm not mad or anything. I wasn't talking to myself, he just can't show himself here."

"Can't show himself?" Hermione repeated quietly, as if tasting the words. "Have you brought some outsider here?" the girl gave him a sharp look.

"Yes," was Harry's first reply, "well, no, not exactly. It's complicated. But there's nothing to be afraid of. I promise I'll explain everything tomorrow," he pleaded.

Hermione remained silent a long time, scrutinising him, before she finally leaned back in her chair. "Alright," the girl said, "I trust you, Harry, but you'd better really explain everything tomorrow."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry smiled, his shoulders sagging in relief.

"Now, have you done your homework?" Hermione asked. Harry rubbed the back of his head and smiled guiltily. How does one go about telling their study-obsessed friend that they will not be attending lessons for quite some time?

-xxx-

The next morning started at 4.30 am with a dash of icy-cold water. Harry awoke with a muffled scream and sat up in his bed. He was expecting to find it, as well as his nightclothes, drenched but those were entirely dry. Instead, Henry was standing by his bedside, smirking.

"Good morning," he greeted way too cheerfully as Harry yawned. "Get up, morning exercises. And I suggest you hurry, I'll have to use stinging hexes if you don't."

"I'm up," Harry grumbled, rubbing his eyes, which really wanted to close. He stood up and gathered his toiletries. After a cold shower, otherwise he knew he would fall asleep even on his feet, Harry got dressed in a pair of trainers and a t-shirt, just as Henry instructed. When he got back, the aforementioned spirit was seating on his bed, looking thoroughly bored. Although there was something in that look that Harry couldn't quite grasp. Upon noticing him, Henry stood up and looked at his watch.

"You spent fifteen minutes," he stated. "Way too much. You must be faster and more organized if you want to achieve the maximum of your potential. Well, let's go to the lake."

"But it's cold," Harry tried to argue, although even to him the attempt sounded meek.

"I'll cast a warming charm on you," Henry replied, surprising Harry with sudden generosity. He half-expected to be ordered to swim in the lake after that retort or something. "Although later you'll be doing morning exercises without them," the spirit smirked, making Harry groan quietly.

Autumn was one of the more unpleasant times of year Harry and he really detested it. The whole season looked like a work of a lunatic who got a hold of a painter's set, and then decided to just splash grey everywhere because they didn't like the monstrosity of their own creation. Mist and biting chill of early November made Harry shiver, until the promised warming charm settled on his skin. Still, as he reached the shore of the Black Lake the magic was dispelled.

"Why?" he almost whined.

"Trust me, you won't need it until you're over," Henry shook his head. For once Harry could not detect a mocking undertone, so all he could do was just nod. "Now, I want two laps around the lake."

"Just two?" Harry asked, surprised.

"You think you can do more?" Henry raised an eyebrow, making Harry's eye twitch, and looked at the large expanse of water meaningfully.

"Yeah…" Harry scratched the back of his head. "I think two are alright."

"Concentrate on the feeling of flying, let's improve your focus while we're at it," Henry added. "Now go."

"Alright," Harry nodded and sprinted away.

Several minutes into running Harry discovered that maintaining his focus was actually easier. Was it because of the repetitive nature of the process, or because it occupied his mind thoroughly enough to push all other concerns away? Regardless, Harry did as his older doppelgänger instructed. Even if he thought the guy was insane at time, Harry had to acknowledge, however grudgingly, that Henry knew what he was talking about. He swiftly cleared his mind again and concentrated on running. It was hard enough after half the distance around the lake was completed that all other concerns became too much of a luxury to indulge in.

It was a good half an hour later that Harry stopped near Henry, panting heavily. His shirt was drenched in sweat, but he was far from cold. The spirit waved a hand and cleaned Harry up, getting rid of all the excess moisture which was starting to cool down rather unpleasantly.

"Good, now physical exercises," Henry nodded. "Let's see…"

Harry internally groaned. His legs were sore and his sides were aching from all the running.

"Don't give me that look," Henry said coldly. "You'll thank me later. So," the spirit snapped, "pushups, twenty, now."

"I feel like I've joined the bloody army," Harry muttered, causing the Heroic Spirit to laugh.

It was two hours later that Harry, thoroughly sore, now aware of most muscles in his body, entered the Great Hall. He was clean thankfully, and fully clothed in his student uniform, courtesy of Henry, who did all of that with a couple of spells. There was almost no one inside, only a couple of ravenclaws and slytherins, who were too engrossed in their books to care about him. That suited Harry just fine. He sat down in his usual place and started piling food on his platter.

Hermione came down about half an hour matter and sat down near him. Harry greeted her. He was oddly energetic after the morning training, unlike most of the students who started filing into the hall.

"Meet me in Myrtle's toilet after the lessons are over," he whispered to the girl. She turned to look at him and nodded. Hermione was still displeased after yesterday, when he revealed that he had no intention of attending lessons at least until the first task is over. She did grudgingly admit that he really did need training, but ultimately withheld her judgement until the introduction to Harry's instructor. "Have a good day, Hermione," Harry smiled. "See you later."

-xxx-

That meeting happened nearly seven hours later, after the last period for the day was over. Harry met Hermione in the Myrtle's bathroom as promised. For him those seven hours were filled with grueling theoretical discussions just like the day before and then some real practice in spell-casting and mediation. Thankfully Myrtle was not here, and even then it was afraid of Henry, so the ghost in question would not tell their secrets to anyone.

"Alright," Hermione closed the door behind her. "Now spill."

"I will," Harry nodded. "But we'll need to go down," he gestured at the sinks and spoke in parseltongue, " _Open_."

The sinks moved apart revealing a large tube leading deep down, beneath the castle. Hermione took a sharp breath as the realization settled in and moved closer. She glanced down carefully and took a step back. Harry was not surprised to see the conflict of curiosity and fear written all over her face. His friend really had a unique relationship with Slytherin's basilisk. It seemed she finally made a decision.

"Why there?" was all she asked.

"Privacy," Harry shrugged. "Let's go."

Hermione nodded and stepped inside. Henry sighed. Now it would be harder for him to direct her flight away from all the grime and dirt, as for some reason he could not move far away from Harry. Harry, on the other hand, just blinked and smiled before following the girl.

It took them some time to get to the main chamber, but eventually the door with snakes on it closed behind them. The first thing Hermione did was study the basilisk, walking around its body and looking at certain parts of it carefully, as if noting something down in an invisible notebook. Harry meanwhile waited patiently on the sidelines. He was in no hurry after all, and neither was Henry.

"Alright," Hermione finally looked at him. "What is it Harry? Why does it need to be discussed here?"

"Hermione," Harry smiled nervously and glanced at Henry, who smirked, "meet myself."

That was the exact moment Henry materialized. A man of average height with short cropped black hair and green eyes behind round spectacles stood behind him and looked at Hermione neutrally.

"Harry, why is there a second, older you?" Hermione asked slowly, her body frozen.

"It's not actually me," Harry tried to explain, but judging by Hermione's frown that only served to confuse her more. "Well he is but, you see…"

"Allow me," Henry said, Harry nodded gratefully. "I am indeed a Harry Potter, but I am in fact much older than the one standing near me. I believe this book will be of help to you," he snapped his fingers and "The Throne of Heroes" floated from Harry's bag to Hermione's hands. The girl took it and gingerly opened it. If Harry was afraid of damaging old books, Hermione must have thought them positively priceless. It didn't take her long to figure things out though. Only fourty minutes of reading, while Harry practiced his meditation under Henry's oversight.

"You're a Heroic Spirit," Hermione stated, alerting both Harrys. She looked at Henry. "How did you manage to become one? The book says a human must not just leave a mark on humanity, but actually become a legend. What did you do… older Harry?"

"Come to think of it, I'm curious as well," Harry nodded. "You said you were Master of Death. You're crazy powerful and a nicer version of Snape. What does this all this mean?"

"Call me Henry, Ms Granger," Henry offered. "As to your questions…" the spirit sighed. "I cannot answer them. Forces beyond humankind bind the timeline and prevent me from revealing the future to you."

"But you're already changing it!" Hermione argued. "I mean, you're tutoring Harry… Although, considering how time works, I guess that would be an infinite loop…"

"I didn't summon a Heroic Spirit, Ms Granger," Henry shook his head. "It's very complicated and involves alternate dimensions. It is also entirely irrelevant. I can't reveal the future I know of, but I can help the one who summoned me. Let's leave it at that."

It was clear that Hermione wanted to continue the questioning, but Henry's stony face left no room for discussion. The girl sighed and turned to look at Harry, who shrugged. He also wanted to know more, but realized already that his future self (if Henry could be called that) did not in fact loose any of the stubbornness of his youth. Yes, Harry was not stupid enough to try to convince himself to do something he was absolutely not going to do.

"Alright," Hermione sighed. "Do you need my help?"

"I suggest that you keep your eyes open," Henry replied before Harry could. "Whoever entered Harry into this tournament are still out there, plotting. I suggest you question the most obvious things if you want to get out of this on top. Harry would no doubt appreciate someone watching the school as he will be far too busy."

"So you are really training all the time?" Hermione asked.

"You have no idea," Harry almost groaned. "Would you like to stay or get back to the castle, Hermione?"

"I think I'll stay," the girl replied. "It will be interesting to watch you train with… erm… yourself, Harry. Besides, I might just explore this Chmaber."

"A good idea," Henry nodded. "Very well. Harry, let's continue. I want you to keep mediation up while you are dodging my spells. And before you start whining, I'll go easy on you at first. Now go!" The spirit ordered as dozens of spells flashed into existence behind his back, though only few of them were sent at Harry.

"A bloody slave-driver…" Harry grumbled as he dodged the incoming curses.


	3. Chapter 3 Rules of the Game

Chapter 3. Rules of the Game

"You'll have to do better than that if you wish to even scrape me," Henry said as he and Harry duelled. Yes, actually duelled properly, with wands and not hundreds of spells appearing out of nowhere. Harry's jelly-legs hex fizzled out on impact with the spirit's shield. "Besides, with this spell choice, you might as well call it a picnic instead of a duel. Who do you hope to defeat with schoolyard tricks?"

Harry had no time to think of a clever retort though, as the Heroic Spirit, unlike him, did not limit himself to mostly harmless hexes, not shying away from curses. Nothing lethal or seriously dangerous, but bone-breakers were appearing more and more often. Though Harry also recognized pink flashes of tendron-severing curses. Nasty stuff. After being hit by a couple of those and then patched up by Henry Harry had no desire to ever be hit by one.

"Come on, Harry," Henry taunted, completely unaffected by the duel, "I am not even using transfiguration."

"Tarantallegra!" Harry shot at the spirit. The spell once again fizzled out on impact with the elder man's shield.

"What will it take for you to resort to real spells?" Henry sighed in obvious annoyance. "Should I start throwing unforgivables around?"

"Are you mad?!" Harry shouted as he hid behind a snake statue for cover.

"Quite the opposite actually," Henry replied. "You, on the other hand, clearly are. Hiding behind a material object in a fight against a master of transfiguration? You are just inviting someone to kill you."

Just like that, the snake came to life, while its material changed from stone into metal. It hissed angrily at him. Thankfully, Harry managed to sprint away before the beast could bite his head off. He tried using parseltongue, but the statue clearly didn't care much for conversation. Henry, on the other hand, laughed.

"Parseltongue? Clever boy," the spirit chuckled, making Harry scowl, "but this is a piece of metal given a form of a snake and animated by magic. Nothing even close to a real snake you see."

"That's well and good," Harry said as he dodged a lunge from the statue, "but how do I defeat it?"

"Are you seriously asking me that question?" Henry raised an eyebrow. Really, Harry had the temptation to just hex the eyebrows of the spirit's face. Then again, that would probably be pointless, Henry was a spirit, after all, and therefore immaterial. Well, to be fair the point was entirely moot as Harry had yet to land a single hit on his opponent. "I might make our little friend here impervious to magic just for that."

"You're bloody impossible," Harry said in annoyance as he dodged yet another lunge. " _Bombarda!_ "

His spell struck true, leaving a gaping hole instead of the right face of the snake's body. The left one remained unaffected however and almost scored a bite. Harry repeated his tactic and dispatched the creature.

"Have you ever had students in the past — or future? Oh nevermind, you know what I mean," Harry asked, taking advantage of the short reprieve.

"I have, as a matter of fact," Henry replied after a moment of hesitation.

"Have they ever told you how much of a shameless slave-driver you are?" Harry continued to scowl.

"It doesn't matter," Henry cut him off with surprising ruthlessness in his voice. "What matters is your training. Don't try to talk your way out of a duel. It isn't your strong side."

"Obviously," Harry grumbled.

"Now, let us continue," the spirit raised his wand again, but whatever spell he had in mind was interrupted when Hermione entered the hall from one of the tunnels she was exploring.

"Oh, Hermione!" Harry smiled. "Any luck?"

"No, nothing," Hermione sighed as she looked at the hand-drawn map in her hands. "Another dead end."

"There's no need to despair," Henry said. "The Chamber is big and besides, you already managed to find another entrance."

"Oh! Henry," Hermione looked at the spirit. "I've read the book you gave me to the end. I have a question to ask."

"Ask away," Henry replied, sitting down on a chair he had just conjured. Harry couldn't help thinking that the spirit was showing off. Henry would usually sit down only when he was bored, and Harry could tell that the Heroic Spirit was actually engaged in a conversation.

"Well, the book states that every hero has a noble phantasm," Hermione said. "What about yours?"

The spirit took a moment and seemed to be dissecting Hermione with his look, but then it sighed and ran a hand through the admittedly short mop of black hair. "The Deathly Hallows."

"What?" Hermione asked in obvious confusion, which Harry shared.

"This ties into me not being able to tell you of the future," Henry sighed again. "I can recommend you to read the Tale of the Three Brothers by Beedle the Bard however. That is all I am willing to disclose. It will shape the legend of Harry Potter Master of Death, so you'll have to find everything out on your own."

"Are you really forbidden from telling us your legend?" Hermione asked.

"No, but it involves revealing the future, which is taboo," Henry shook his head.

"Wait, what's a noble phantasm?" Harry interrupted.

"Haven't you read the book, Harry?" Hermione frowned at him.

"Uh, well, most of it, but I didn't quite reach the end before Henry loaned it to you," Harry replied scratching his neck.

"Honestly," Hermione huffed. "Well, a noble phantasm is a manifestation of a Heroic Spirit's legend as well as their beibg. It is their trump card, the ultimate weapon."

"Correct," Henry nodded from his chair.

"Aren't you going to use it against me?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"During training? As you are now?" there was a sense of utter incredulity in the spirit's voice. "I was under the impression you wanted to survive the tournament, not die before the first task. Noble phantasms are very powerful, mine especially."

"I never thought I would become a Heroic Spirit with such an insufferable personality," Harry said. "Did you take lessons on how to be nasty or something?"

"As a matter of fact I did," Henry smirked. "From Snape actually."

" _What?!_ " Harry and Hermione exclaimed simultaneously. "Really?" Harry asked in bemusement.

"No," Henry's smirk widened, though there was something behind it that Harry couldn't identify, "but you should have seen your faces. They will brighten my existence in the Throne of Heroes."

"Can we get on with it already?" Harry asked, feeling embarrassed at falling for such a cheap trick. There was absolutely no way he could have taken any lessons from Snape willingly. None. Whatsoever.

"Of course," Henry stood up and his chair vanished. "This time, I want you to try and focus on the feeling of flying. Let only the spells into your mind as you are dodging. I forbid you from using incantations under the penalty of, let's see, half a lap more during your morning run tomorrow per incarnation."

Harry groaned.

"Quit your whining," Henry reprimanded and started the assault.

In the end, Harry ended up earning himself two more laps around the lake the next day, but still failed to cast a non-verbal spell. He kicked a statue in frustration. Of course, it was only his leg that was left with a stinging sensation after a flash of pain.

"Why can't we study normally?" Harry grumbled.

"Because your skull is so thick," Henry commented idly. "I thought I told you."

"Well your methods aren't working either," Harry snapped. "All you have me do is basically running and jumping."

"Harry-" Hermione wanted to intervene, but Henry stopped her.

"No, there's no need for your interruptions, Ms Granger," the spirit said in a stiff manner, "this matter is between the student and the teacher," Henry looked at Harry, "So, do you believe you know magic better than I?"

"No," Harry replied, taking a step back, "but…"

"I had a number of students," Henry continued, giving Harry a harsh glare. "While we had our fair share of problems, you are the first one to be so utterly lazy and ungrateful. My previous students would wake up all on their own at half past four and do their exercises without any need for supervision. They would do everything I say as I say and accept my praise or criticism with equal eagerness," the spirit paused. "But you do everything as if it were for my benefit and you were some kind of victim of exploitation."

"I do not!" Harry shouted, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Don't interrupt me," Henry said coldly. "You'd better change that attitude, Harry, or I'll change my views on our partnership. Do your meditation," with that the spirit disappeared.

Harry sighed with irritation and sat down. Hermione, having witnessed the argument, came closer and spoke softly:

"I think you were too-"

"What?" Harry snapped, his meditation forgotten. "Too ungrateful?"

"Don't give me that, Harry Potter," Hermione replied with her stern face on. "I am not going to repeat Snape's usual phrase here. I was going to say that you were too rash and expect results far too soon. Besides, haven't you noticed, you have improved."

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry looked at his feet. "But I don't see any improvement. Besides, he's not teaching me anything new about magic. I could've easily done all we had on my own!"

"Then why haven't you?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow, making Harry frown. "Until Henry came along, you didn't train at all."

"I… Well, I…" Harry stammered, but the raised eyebrow was all the indication that his efforts were not being appreciated. Embarrassment was spreading through him like wildfire because Hermione had just made a very good point.

"I am sure Henry is still going to teach you something more advanced when you are ready," Hermione spoke patiently. "You just need to be patient."

"Don't patronize me, Hermione," Harry said tiredly.

"I am not patronizing you, Harry," the girl replied with indignation.

"Sorry," Harry sighed. "I am just a little… I need some time alone to think."

Hermione nodded and gathered her things in her bag. She left the Chamber with a quiet "goodbye". With there being an additional exit in one of the corridors, she could easily leave on her own, without Harry's help. It was about the only truly useful thing Henry had done since his arrival — showing Harry how to switch passwords from parseltongue to English.

In any case, he still had a lot to consider. Harry sighed and turned everything out, concentrating on the feeling of flight. It engulfed him like a fine sheet of calm. Suddenly the wetness of the room and the cold of the floor were unimportant. The only thing on his mind was now his problem with Henry. Was he really that lazy that he never even once considered training on his own? Even Harry had to admit that he became much more proficient at dodging spells, a skill that could one day save his life, and studies became easier with the improved focus. _Why_ had he never considered doing any of those extremely simple exercises on his own?

Well… Maybe Henry had a point when he called Harry a lazy brat. This admission left Harry really sour. Still, he sighed, there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

"Henry," he called. His Heroic Spirit materialized from black smoke an looked at him with that damned raised eyebrow of his. "I'm sorry," Harry said sullenly.

"Oh?" Henry feigned surprise. "That was uncharacteristically fast for you."

"Hermione talked to me," Harry shrugged.

"Ah," The spirit nodded. "If there was ever one girl that could get to me through my stubbornness, that would be Hermione Granger. So?"

"So?" Harry looked at the spirit with confusion.

"Yes, what do you intend to do?"

"Train, like we've been doing," Harry replied simply. "I don't have anything else in mind… And I'd be glad if you could teach me some spells."

"I see that we have definitely made some progress," Henry sighed. "But your skull is still as thick as ever. I _have_ been teaching you magic."

"But how?" Harry looked at the spirit in surprise. "We've just been discussing theory."

"And I suppose you think that every new spell you come across is an entirely new piece of magic?" Henry asked.

"Well, isn't it?" Harry looked at the spirit in curiosity.

"No, of course not," Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. "They all have similar theory behind them. By modifying the general principles of a school of magic where needed you can easily get any spell you want. That is especially important in transfiguration. Do you honestly believe there is an actual spell for transforming every single item in existence into another?"

Harry chose not to reply but had the decency to be embarrassed. That notion was indeed delusional now that he thought about it.

"In any case," Henry conjured a chair for himself, "get on with your meditation."

-xxx-

"So how is in the Throne of Heroes?" Harry asked Henry as they were seating near the lake early in the morning. His exercises were done, but he wanted to know more about his future self, considering how little information the spirit actually offered in their previous exchanges.

"Why the sudden question?" asked Henry.

"I'm just curious," Harry shrugged. "You must have spent a lot of time there… Come to think of it, how old are you actually?"

"Old," was everything Henry said. "But the time in the Throne of Heroes doesn't count. There is no concept of time there. Everything that has happened will happen and vice versa."

"Wow," Harry said in surprise, "that's convoluted."

"The Throne of Heroes is a concept beyond human comprehension," Henry replied simply. For a moment, both were just staring at the murky waters of the Black Lake.

"I know you can't tell me the future," Harry asked suddenly, "but have you defeated Voldemort?"

"Yes, yes I have," Henry didn't take his eyes away from the lake. "But I can't tell you how or when. I can only nudge you in the right direction, not walk the way for you."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "You think you'll be able to tell us anything after Hermione and I read that fairy tale you mentioned yesterday?"

"Everything I will be able to say you will already know from the book," Henry shrugged.

"Well, at least I know I can stop Voldemort," Harry sighed. "It's something at least… But say, is this weird way you cast spells some kind of special heroic ability?"

"No," Henry smiled. "I could do that while alive. Not an easy technique to master, but absolutely possible. Nothing comes without effort though, it took me a lot of time to figure everything out and make it work. I admit, though, my current nature does give it something of a boost but it's mostly in the form of power supply."

"So I can learn it?" Harry asked eagerly.

"You could," Henry said carefully, looking Harry over. "But it is very hard. We'll start working on it after Christmas. Don't expect fast results though — you'll be lucky if you manage to just summon one spell like this by the end of the year."

"But you said you can't help me so directly," Harry frowned.

"Ah, but I will not be learning it for you, will I?" Henry smirked.

"Sneaky," Harry's smirk mirrored that of his older self.

"The Sorting Hat did want to send us to Slytherin, did it not?" Henry winked, prompting a small laugh out of Harry.

"I think we wouldn't have fared very well there though," Harry replied.

"True," Henry nodded, "You are too thick for their intrigues, and I was no better in my youth."

"Hey!" Harry scowled. "How come you mock me more often than Snape?"

"Oh, you know what they say, Harry," Henry suddenly grew serious, all traces of amusement gone, "one should compare themselves not to their peers but to their past selves. I guess, looking back, the image I see of myself in you is less than flattering."

"You don't like me much, do you?" Harry looked at the lake. He tried to contain his bitterness but there was far too much of it. "Especially because I summoned you."

"True, I don't appreciate being summoned," Henry nodded slowly. "Though it is the least of my concerns. I look at you and see a rash boy, unprepared and impulsive, full of spirit and ideals while being utterly ignorant of the world around him. Somehow, despite telling myself that I don't care, I don't want you to get killed because of all this."

That was new. Harry had never expected to hear something like this from Henry. It was almost like the spirit actually cared about him, which was an alien concept for Harry. No one had ever cared enough to scold or berate him before, well Mrs Weasley didn't count, she was there only two weeks a year at the most. Besides, this honesty, it was invigorating — no one had ever been so brutally honest with him, Harry really did appreciate it. Then the last part of Henry's answer caught up with him.

"But you survived, how can I not?" he looked up at the Heroic Spirit, whose face was uncharacteristically grim.

"Realities are parallel until they are not," Henry sighed. He seemed to be struggling with something. "What happened in one of them, might not happen in another."

Harry froze. It was like the time came to a halt as he watched the expression on his elder self's face turn hollow. _I am not entirely you_ , the words echoed in his head. "In that case, I can still die here?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," was a simple answer.

"It's all back to square one then," Harry said. "Heroic Spirit or no, I am no better than I was before."

"I beg to differ," Henry argued. "You are somewhat better than you were a week ago. A little bit, but it is noticeable. Besides, I will be able to protect you in dire situations... Yes," the spirit sighed, "I suppose I should have said it earlier. Lift your shirt and look at your back," Henry conjured a tall mirror.

Harry frowned but complied. As he took off the oversized shirt and took in how his back looked he couldn't help a gasp that escaped him. "What the hell is this?" he asked. There, in-between his shoulder blades was a black tattoo of a triangle with a circle in it, both bisected by a line.

"It's my symbol," Henry said. "Your command seals that mark your status as my summoner. They are very powerful spells, capable of forcing me to do anything, even defy the rules I cannot defy. Their nature is complicated, especially in this world, where they are provided by an unconventional source. Anyway, you will have three times when I will be able to come to your rescue despite being forbidden from it."

"Forbidden by who?" Harry asked, putting his shirt back on.

"The world, God, call it however you want," Henry shrugged. "Heroic spirits aren't welcome here, I am only allowed to remain because I agreed to these conditions and you provide me with an anchor."

"Huh," was all Harry could say. "Why didn't you say any of this earlier?" he asked in mild irritation, there went the honesty he was singing praises to.

"I didn't want to tempt you," Henry confessed. He lifted a stone and threw it into the lake. Uneven circles spread throughout the smooth surface of the water. "You only have three times, remember this. Don't waste the seals for nothing."

"Alright," Harry nodded and stood up from where he was sitting, feeling a mix of a great many feelings he couldn't understand. "What happens if no more seals remain?"

"I'll disappear," Henry replied. "These seals are a visual representation of my anchor in this world. No seals — no Heroic Spirit. I think you'd better go to the castle. Breakfast is about to start," with a wave of Henry's hand Harry's body was clean and his clothes changed from workout outfit to Hogwarts uniform. Harry nodded and left, as Henry dissipated.


	4. Chapter 4 Veil of Death

Chapter 4. Veil of Death

Harry collapsed on the floor, drenched in sweat, grime and dirty water of the Chamber of Secrets. It had been two weeks since he summoned Henry and those were the toughest in his entire life. He really felt like had joined the army. It was constant training: in the morning (which always started at 4.30 am according to the Heroic Spirit) came physical exercises, followed by theoretical discussions (read "dodging dangerous spells"), and then spell practice, where Henry would help Harry perfect his casting — through it all, constant meditation and concentration on the feeling of flight. Just how that was supposed to help him Harry did not know, and Henry would always say that he would understand in time.

"Alright," Henry sent a cleaning spell his way. Now skin irritation was barely noticeable to Harry, his feeling of flight, which the spirit insisted he maintain all the time, was pushing it out of his mind. "Go have dinner. We'll continue afterwards."

The Great Hall was, as usual, full of people, and thankfully Hermione was one of them because at the moment Ron's glare and whispering were annoying and even the feeling of flying Harry tried to concentrate on did little to help. Therefore Harry quickly walked to the Gryffindor table and plopped down next to Hermione, hissing as his sore backside collided with the hard wood of the bench.

"Hey there," he said in a way of greeting before getting some food.

"Harry, I've just had the Care for Magical Creatures," Hermione started, drawing his attention. "Hagrid held Ron and I back and asked us to tell you to meet him today at 10 pm near his hut… And to bring your cloak," she finished in barely a whisper.

"Did he mention why?" Harry asked, even if he expected the answer, which had interesting implications.

"No, he didn't," Hermione seemed surprised. Harry could definitely understand her, it wasn't like Hagrid to concoct some schemes and plots. Usually, the half-giant would just come up to him and say what he needed, not like this. What was it with all the mystery around Harry all of sudden?

"Alright, thanks, Hermione," Harry smiled at his friend, it turned bitter after a single glance at a certain Weasley. "I wonder if Ron is even going to bother."

"I don't know what's gotten into him lately," Hermione's face fell. "He's been saying horrible things about you, Harry. I tried arguing, but he just called me a traitor," the girl finished, visibly shaken. Harry wanted to help her but didn't quite know how to go about it. He didn't want to appear too presumptuous by touching her or hugging, and he didn't want to embarrass her or himself. But then he also realized that he couldn't just let the situation unfold without some form of participation…

" _I would just talk to her. Use touch if you really want to get her attention but don't overdo it,"_ Henry appeared in his astralized form so that no one else could hear or see him, something Harry had gotten used to over the last couple of weeks.

"It's not your fault, Hermione," Harry said gently. "Ron can be a right git if he wants to, especially since he's so stubborn."

" _Yes, reminds me of somebody_ ," Henry looked at him meaningfully, which Harry thoroughly ignored.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione visibly relaxed and gave him a brief smile. "Now as for your homework — and don't think you'll get out of it, I don't care if you're a champion or Merlin himself — I've been collecting all of it for the last two weeks and with the first task coming up you'll need all the practice you can get. So let's go over all of the spells we've been learning in class."

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry hastily raised his hand to prevent his friend from going on another tirade about the importance of lessons, "but I already know all those spells. Henry and I," he whispered, "are really ahead of the class."

"How?" Hermione's mouth remained open even after the question.

"Well, who can be a better teacher for me than well… me?" Harry gave her a lopsided smile, causing Hermione to shake her head in exasperation.

"So what have you studied so far?" the girl inquired with a spark in her eye. Harry's lips twitched.

"Why?" he asked innocently.

"Harry Potter," Hermione hissed, "you are not going to die on my watch, so spill!"

"Alright, alright," Harry chuckled. "Most of this semester material in defence and transfiguration. Charms are not quite my forte as it turned out, though Henry had me study fireproofing charm for some reason."

"But you're not bad at all at Charms," Hermione frowned. "I mean you had better grades than in transfiguration."

"Oh well," Harry shrugged. "Henry said so. And with him being my older self and all…"

"Makes sense," Hermione acknowledged grudgingly. "But you shouldn't abandon charms or any other subjects for that matter," she let her opinion be known.

"As if Henry would allow me," Harry snorted. "I swear, the guy is a slave-driver. I feel like I've joined the army or something at times."

"Well," Hermione began carefully, "he does act somewhat unlike you, although sometimes he's just your carbon copy."

"When?" Harry felt his mouth open in confusion.

"There was this one time in the library," Hermione said with a small smile playing on her lips, making Harry raise an eyebrow. He scowled as soon as he recognized the gesture and tried to wipe it off his face. "He was searching for a book and was utterly clueless where to look for it."

"That… does sound like me," Harry had to acknowledge. "But that's it!" he swore. "The guy's nothing like me. I can't believe he's actually me…"

"Why don't you want him to be you, Harry?" Hermione frowned. Harry paused for a moment and sighed, playing with the food on his plate.

"He's cold, like one of those slytherins," Harry muttered. "I mean, he looks ruthless. He doesn't hesitate to hurt others, to give out orders. He gets angry when disobeyed and doesn't hesitate to punish or throw insults around. I would never consider something like this."

An uneasy silence settled over the pair as each was engrossed in their own thoughts. Harry was still confused as to elder self turned out like this. He sure as hell didn't want to become a person like Henry. All the power was alluring, but he couldn't imagine any friends at his elder clone's side. It was just impossible to hang around a person like this. Another unwelcome voice interrupted their quiet contemplation.

"Hey Potter," it was Malfoy, standing right behind him judging by the source of the voice. Of course the brat would show himself in the most inopportune of times, "how is a glory hound's life treating you?"

What a snotty little brat… Harry mentally slapped himself. He was starting to sound like Henry. Great… He tried desperately to wash the thought out of his mind and decided that a little verbal spar with Malfoy could be beneficial for once. It's not something Henry would do after all.

"Why Malfoy," he chuckled, not turning away from his plate, "I'd have to ask you to find out."

"You filthy half-blood," the blonde drawled, Harry heard it more than the sneer really, but after three years of rows with Malfoy, he could read the boy so very easily. "Face your betters when they are talking to you!" The boy ordered imperiously. Well, at least the blonde tried to sound imperious, his breaking voice somewhat undermined the effort.

"Nah," Harry replied, taking a sip of his juice, "nothing I haven't seen before."

"Are you sure, Potter?" Malfoy's voice was suddenly full of gleeful anticipation, which made Harry tense. He decided to face the boy after all.

A badge on Malfoy's and his goons' robes caught his attention almost immediately. On it was a flashy text: " _Support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts Champion!"_ which in a moment turned into an even more flashy (if it was at all possible) " _Potter stinks!"_ Harry was struck by just how immature the whole thing was, it only registered in his mind later that he should have been offended by it. Yet he wasn't, instead, the feeling of amusement filled him.

"Tell me, Malfoy," he smiled merrily, "do you pay someone to come up with those silly ideas? You should really double their pay. Their stunts are getting more stupid by the year!" Harry actually laughed. It was the first sincere laugh in a long while. He tried to stop it, as more and more people were turning to look at him, but Malfoy's rapidly reddening face was just priceless.

"Come on, Crabbe, Goyle," the boy spat eventually, "the filthy half-blood couldn't see his place if we were to snub his uncouth snout in it."

Which only elicited more laughter from Harry. Really, now he could face Henry.

-xxx-

It was five minutes to 10 pm when Harry reached Hagrid's hut under his invisibility cloak. He stuck his head out to announce his arrival to the half-giant.

"Hi, Hagrid," he greeted the man.

"Harry, you're 'ere," Hagrid replied hastily, looking around. "Quick, put tha' cloak back on and follow me. Jus' don't get caught, alright?"

"Ok, Hagrid, but what-" he was forced to quickly close his mouth and hide behind the cloak because Madam Maxim was approaching the hut. What was the headmaster of Beauxbatons doing here at this hour? That was when Harry noticed Hagrid wearing a tie and holding a bouquet of flowers in his arm. Was Hagrid going on a _date_?

" _Bravo, Sherlock,"_ Henry commented, sarcasm oozing from his voice, " _your observation skills are truly a gift to mankind… The dishonest part, that is."_

Harry clenched his teeth, holding back a retort. His future self was an ass — a clinical fact. That aside, why on earth would Hagrid call him here then? Surely the half-giant didn't need _Harry's_ help. Wait… How did Henry know what Harry had been thinking?! He would have to figure it out later.

"Shell ve go, 'Agrid?" Maxim asked with a smile Harry recognized as a fake. Henry used it sometimes when the spirit was about to berate him. Why would she come here if she didn't like Hagrid enough to smile sincerely? His head was getting dizzy from all the questions flying around in it.

"O' course!" the man beamed. "Right tha' way."

Their little late evening stroll brought Harry to the Forbidden Forest. Was that Hagrid's idea of a romantic setup? In the meantime, the pair chatted about some nonsense, and Harry noticed that Maxim's smile was becoming a little less forced. He really had to give it to Hagrid, as unassuming as the man seemed, it turned out he could really charm a woman.

"It's really close," Hagrid said. Harry perked up and looked around. There was faint light coming from ahead of them. Was that the reason Hagrid called him? This stroll was becoming more interesting by the moment.

Whatever anticipation Harry had, came down with a brutal _crash_ , when he saw just what Hagrid wanted to show him. Four dragons were caged, throwing fire around like it was candy. Teams of men, dragon handlers, Harry recognized, were running around trying to contain the beasts and minimize their fire output. Others were scrambling to put out multiple fires that were starting around each cage. That was the source of light Harry saw earlier.

Stiffness suddenly overcame him, when Harry realized just what for those dragons were brought to and held in the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts had no need for dragons, neither did Hogsmeade. The timing was also a big giveaway. Those great fire-breathing lizards were here for the Triwizard tournament, likely the first task. Harry couldn't move as thousands of thoughts were running through his mind, most of them involving a gruesome death at the hands — or paws — of a dragon. Did the bloody organizers or the bloody tournament really expect the Champions to face _fucking_ dragons?!

" _We need to return to the castle_ ," Henry appeared in his immaterial form. " _Be careful, Karkaroff is several meters behind you_."

Harry acknowledged his Heroic Spirit with a quiet nod and turned around, going straight for Hogwarts, dodging a clueless Durmstrang headmaster on the way.

Down in the Chamber was where he allowed himself to let go and just rant and vent off his frustration on the dummies Henry so generously summoned. At last, he stopped to take a breath.

"Are you done?" Henry drawled. "Your reaction was amusing so I indulged you, but it is getting tedious."

"Dragons!" Harry shouted.

"I'm quite aware," Henry's lip curled in distaste.

"Dragons!" Harry repeated, unable to put all his rage at many different people into words. Henry sighed and rolled his eyes. Harry was suddenly on the floor, crushed by an insurmountable force.

"Do shut up," Henry said in annoyance.

"Wait," Harry said from his position on the floor, "you're future me! You knew and didn't tell me!" he shouted. "You pretentious deceiving piece of..."

"Shut up, Harry," Henry's voice was colder than November air at night, that left hoarfrost in its wake. "You are aware of the powers at work here. I told you I couldn't reveal the future to you. So if you're done being an ungrateful brat," he spat, "then perhaps you would deign to listen to those trying to help you save your clueless ass."

Harry was silently fuming on the floor, glaring at his older doppelgänger. It was a clash of two equally stubborn tides, neither willing to relent.

"Couldn't you at least give me some clues?!" Harry shouted. "Or teach me anything useful?"

"Remember the fireproofing charms?" the spirit asked. "Now you know why I insisted you master it."

"As if that would be enough to fight a dragon," Harry replied bitterly.

"No, which is why you need a plan," Henry said.

"And I am supposed to trust you?" Harry exclaimed in bemusement. "First it's the seals, now dragons. What are you not telling me? Is Voldemort coming back now or something?!"

Henry looked at his feet and Harry took a step back. He looked at the Heroic Spirit in horror of the depths of its betrayal. His legs were suddenly weak but he managed to stay upright, though it did suddenly get a little harder to breathe.

"He is, isn't he?" Harry asked in barely a whisper. "How could you? I trusted you… Can I not trust even myself?"

"I told you I couldn't reveal the future," Henry replied calmly. "I can only give you hints at best."

"Henry, please, get out," Harry said. "Just… Just disappear for some time. You make my skin crawl."

"You still need a plan," Henry argued.

"And I'll bloody think of it with people I can actually trust!" Harry shouted. It was sudden, but the spark of anger just ignited in his chest in a full-blown bonfire of fury. "You were supposed to protect me! A fine job you're doing!"

"Listen, Harry, I understand that you're upset," Henry said, appearing calm, though Harry could see the spirit clenching one of its fists. "You need to keep cool, you need a sound plan."

"Are you going to tell me anything useful?" Harry asked bluntly.

"You know my constraints," Henry replied, "but-"

"Then I have no reason to trust you at all," Harry cut the spirit off. "I'll just have to use Hermione."

"Listen to me, you damn brat," Henry hissed. "You may think the world revolves around you. It is not true. I've been helping you as much as I am allowed to but what you're asking is impossible."

"Maybe I should just use one of the seals?" Harry asked coldly, glaring at the spirit.

"And use one of the chances for me to directly defend you?" Henry took a step toward him.

"Are you sure you're the Master of Death and not excuses?" Harry sneered in disgust. Something dark settled over Henry as the spirit took a step back.

"You think the world revolves around your needs, don't you, Harry?" Henry asked quietly. "Do you believe yourself to be special? Even with Voldemort's return, do you think you're one of a kind human? Some sort of chosen one? Well let me enlighten you, there will always be a million others just like you. If you think your dramas are unique, then you are a fool. Call me when you grow up."

The spirit disappeared in a swirl of black mist. Leaving Harry alone, fuming in the Chamber. "I hate you," he said to the empty space where Henry stood a moment ago.

-xxx-

Next morning was dull. Harry did most of the things on instinct. He woke up as usual at 4.30 am and went to do his morning exercises. Henry not being there didn't mean Harry was going to abandon everything. His world didn't hinge on the bastard's approval or participation. Especially with the threat of dragons Harry had all the motivation to push himself harder. Still, he barely even said a word to Hermione when she came down for breakfast.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" The girl asked. Figures she would notice, Hermione was way too sharp not to. Harry didn't know what to say, so he continued to eat in silence. "Did something happen with Henry yesterday?"

"I hate him," Harry said. His voice was surprisingly dull.

"What happened?" Hermione asked with obvious worry written all over her face.

"It doesn't matter," Harry shook his head. He really didn't feel like explaining everything to Hermione. "I just hate him."

"Does it have to do with Hagrid?" the girl persisted. Harry released a long-suffering sigh.

"Hermione, can we please drop it, at least for now?" he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. She kept scrutinizing him for several minutes before signing in resignation.

"Alright," Hermione nodded. "But I don't think this animosity between the two of you is healthy."

"Uhuh," Harry nodded noncommittally. "Whatever," he took his bag and stood up, transfiguration would begin in ten minutes.

"Are you going to attend lessons today?" Hermione looked at the bag questioningly.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, putting hands in his pockets, "the bastard won't show himself, so I might as well pretend I'm a normal student."

Hermione actually looked conflicted. He thought the girl obsessed with studies will actually like him attending lessons. She caught his look and sighed.

"It's not that I don't think it good that you're back to lessons," she said carefully, "but your training was obviously more effective for you."

"Well, I'm not going to go to this pretentious ass," Harry groused. "You going?"

"Yes, let's go…"

It didn't take too long for them to reach McGonagall's classroom, which was already half-full of gryffindors and slytherins. Hermione all but dragged Harry to one of the desks in front and sat him near herself. Harry didn't particularly mind, he didn't care where to sit. Not like being at the back would spare him McGonagall's dressing-down that was no doubt coming. He watched as students filed in, all the while thinking about Henry's words. He hated the man, but his treacherous mind couldn't help but mull over everything the pretentious bastard spoke about. His musings were interrupted by McGonagall.

"I see, Mr Potter, that you have finally decided to grace us with your presence," the woman's voice was more stern than usual. Snickers could be heard for a moment before the professor squashed them with her iron glare. "I hope you have not been gallivanting these two weeks because I am not going to tolerate incompetence in my class, champion or no champion. Do I make myself clear, Mr Potter?" her eyes were boring into him.

"Yes, professor," he replied as evenly as he could, artfully not letting any of his irritation at Henry slip out.

"Very well," McGonagall nodded stiffly. "Now we will be transforming hedgehogs to pincushions. We discussed the theory during the previous lesson and you had an essay to write for today, hand it in by the way, so with enough practice you should be perfectly capable of doing that spell. You may begin," the woman instructed as hedgehogs floated from their cages to students' desks. One of them landed in front of Harry and stared at him with its beady black eyes.

Damn it. Even school was reminding him of that bastard. Hedgehog to pinch cushions. How primitive. The bastard had taught him the general theory behind animate-to-inanimate transfiguration and ways to adapt it to particular cases. It was just a matter of easy calculations one could run in their head. The only reason it was not a skill taught in the fourth year was that it required a whole slew of philosophical knowledge that was believed to be too complicated for fourteen-year-olds He did so and waved his wand. Words were redundant here if one knew the cause and effect. His hedgehog morphed into a perfect pincushion.

"Not bad at all, Mr Potter," McGonagall commented when she noticed his success. "I am pleasantly surprised. Keep up the good work. You may help other students."

"Yes, professor," he muttered and went about the classroom. He was in fact in no mood for human interaction at the moment but did anyone care?

When the class was finally over, Harry followed Hermione to the history of magic. Well, at least he would be able to catch a few more hours of sleep. While walking there he noticed a very pale Fleur Delacour charting nervously with some other Beauxbatons girls. She looked at him with some worry but swiftly averted her gaze. Harry came to an abrupt halt.

"Harry?" Hermione frowned beside him. "Is something the matter?"

"Hermione," he said urgently, "do you know where seventh-year hufflepuffs should be now?"

"How should I know, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Although I think I saw them in the Charms corridor. Why?"

"No time," Harry replied, already running toward the charms classroom. He needed to find Cedric as fast as he could.

He was out of breath when he reached the fourth floor. There he saw it, yellow and black. Harry swiftly approached the group, despite all the stares and glares that increased the closer he got to Cedric, who he spotted in the crowd.

"Cedric, we need to talk," he called.

"Why'd he want to talk to a traitor like you?" one of the hufflepuffs sneered, not that Harry even noticed.

"What's the matter?" Cedric asked with some confusion.

"It's urgent and private," Harry insisted. "I really need to talk to you."

"Don't listen to him, Cedric," one of the puffs said, "the traitor's just trying to get rid of competition or something. He knows he's no match for you."

"Whatever," Harry said automatically, "so will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Alright," Cedric slowly nodded. "I know a quiet place around here."

Harry nodded and followed the older teen. The quiet place turned out to be a broom cupboard, and Harry was desperately trying not to think about the reasons Cedric has behind exploring broom cupboards. He had more important things to do anyway.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Cedric asked as he closed the door.

"The first task, do you know what it is?" Harry asked without preamble.

"No, why?" Cedric regraded him carefully.

"It's dragons," Harry replied curtly. "It'll have something to do with dragons."

" _Dragons_?" Cedric hissed. His face cycled between fear and confusion. "How do you know that?"

"Hagrid showed me," Harry confessed.

"But why tell me?" Cedric asked, even more confused. "We're rivals."

"I don't care," Harry rolled his eyes. "You want to go against a dragon unprepared, be my guest," he bit out. Harry stopped and took a calming breath. This annoyance was directed not at the hufflepuff in front of him. "Sorry about that, I've just had some problems recently. Anyway, all the other champions know, I saw Maxim and Karkaroff there and they no doubt already told their champions. That and I don't think you'd want to face a dragon with your pants down."

"Thanks, Harry," Cedric swallowed. "Merlin, dragons," he breathed, "I'm gonna need to go to the library."

"Good idea," Harry nodded. "Right, that's all I wanted to tell you," he opened the door and stepped out when Cedric called him. Harry turned around and looked at the teen with a raised eyebrow, which he was quick to lower. The expression was annoying on so many levels for so many reasons. "What is it?"

"About the badges…" Cedric rubbed the back of his neck. "I told them not to-"

"Forget it," Harry waved a hand dismissively. "I don't care about them."

As he walked through a secret passage that would bring him close to the history classroom, Henry materialized in front of him. The sight of the Heroic Spirit made Harry scowl.

"Well that was something," Henry stated. "You decided to pay attention to someone other than yourself."

"Are you here to annoy me?" Harry bit out.

"No, I am here to say that you aren't as much of a self-absorbed little boy as I thought you were," Henry replied neutrally. It still came out as an insult, making Harry's scowl deepen.

"I hate you," he said.

"Whatever," Henry waved his and dismissively. "You still need my help with the first task."

"No I don't," Harry replied coldly. "Get lost."

"You got some meagre training and decided that you could take on a dragon, Harry?" Henry asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry's eye twitched.

"I don't need you," he repeated frostily, "so get lost."

"As you wish," Henry nodded with a vicious smile that suddenly appeared on his face. "Should I warn Hermione of your impending funeral?"

"Go. To. Hell," Harry spat and passed the spirit as it dissipated.

" _Never been there actually,"_ came the retort.

-xxx-

The next day Harry was pulled aside by Moody who dragged him to his office. It was a charming combination of morbid pictures with the effects of dark curses in them and enemy detection devices, that moved and clanked sporadically. Moody's artificial eye, as usual, spun rapidly, looking everywhere at once, while his healthy eye bored into Harry, making him squirm.

"Potter, do you know what the first task will entail?" the man asked suddenly, after taking a gulp from his flask.

"Why are you asking, sir?" Harry replied carefully.

"Don't be coy with me, Potter," Moody barked. "Dumbledore asked me to ensure your survival, and I intend to do that, rules or no rules. So?"

"Dragons," Harry answered. Moody nodded.

"Good," he praised, "now do you have a strategy?"

"I haven't worked on it yet," Harry shook his head. "I only found out about dragons yesterday night."

"No matter," Moody muttered. "Dragons are no walk in the park, lad. You'll have to play your strengths. What are good at?"

"I don't know…" Harry was momentarily lost. "I think I'm good at flying and transfiguration."

"Anything useful in your repertoire of transfiguration spells?" Moody raised an eyebrow, making Harry frown.

"I don't think so," he shook his head. Even with the Heroic bastard, he didn't learn anything beyond the start of the fifth year, i.e. vanishing spells, which were largely useless when facing a dragon.

"A broom it is then," Moody nodded. "You'll have to outfly a dragon. Think you can do it, lad?"

"I… I'll have to," Harry nodded.

"That's the spirit," the old auror clapped him on the shoulder. "You know summoning charms?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Good, then use them, you won't be allowed to bring anything but a wand with yourself," Moody told him. "Nothing about summoning though," the man winked, making Harry smile. "Alright, lad, go get ready, I'd find some fire-repellant charms in the library."

"Thank you, sir," Harry nodded in gratitude.

"Don't mention it," Moody replied, "not to anyone," he added as an afterthought. Harry's was not sure if it was meant to be a joke or not, but nodded regardless and left the office. Hermione was no doubt waiting for him. He couldn't shake off the good mood though, finally, there was someone willing to help him without giving him crap about brats.

As Harry left the office, he heard Henry's disembodied voice spoke again. " _You should come up with a back-up plan."_

"I don't need your help," Harry cut the spirit off and walked away.

* * *

 **AN: I don't particularly like that chapter. I might change it afterwards. The next one is shaping to be much better. Read and reviews, I might not reply to them but I do appreciate all of them. And of course my thanks to everyone who left a review or two.**


	5. Chapter 5 To See Death

Chapter 5. To See Death

Harry's stomach was twisting in knots with every step he took toward the champions' tent. It was large and its vibrant colours left no chance of confusing it with anything else. He knew there was no way back and that he had a plan, but suddenly he wasn't so sure, a thousand ifs were floating in his mind like poisonous needles to his focus which he desperately tried to maintain. He tried to summon that feeling of flying again but found it slipping from his grasp. With a frustrated sigh, he entered the tent.

The selection passed fairly quickly, and soon Harry was sitting with his miniature Hungarian Horntail with number "4" around its neck. Cedric thanked him again for revealing the nature of the first task before going to face his dragon, but to be honest Harry was currently more concerned about his own dragon and survival. Was it the sign of the selfishness Henry was talking about? No, Harry shook his head, he would not listen to the bastard. He had a plan and would win, no matter the odds.

" _Don't be a fool,_ " Henry's voice came from beside Harry. " _You might hate my guts, but you must use a command seal if you can't manage on your own._ "

"I don't need your help," Harry muttered. His voice was quiet enough that others didn't hear.

" _If that is so, then you will not even need to use the seal, but if your life is threatened you would be a fool to ignore it,_ " oddly enough Henry's voice lacked the bite to it. It was like the spirit wanted to insult him but couldn't. Oh well…

The first task was progressing fast. It only took an hour for the three champions to finish their attempts, and very fast the cannon shot for the fourth time, signalling the start of his own attempt.

" _You may not like me, but do keep your eyes open,_ " Henry's voice spoke nearby. Harry decided not to bother with the reply, especially since he had no time. All the eyes were watching him the moment he stepped out of the tent. With his wand raised Harry summoned his broom. He was rather lucky that Henry drilled the summoning charm into him.

" _Make yourself fire-resistant,"_ Henry advised, stirring up extreme annoyance in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"Aren't you talkative today," Harry snarked and ducked behind the nearest rock to avoid a stream of flame sent his way by the roaring dragon. Still, he saw merit in the advice and opted to follow it. The charm wasn't the absolute defence against dragon fire, but it would help him escape a lot of minor burns.

At last, his broom zoomed in, and with reflexes honed by years of chasing the snitch, Harry caught it midair and mounted. The trusty Firebolt took him higher and higher. Harry decided to circle the dragon, as it was hard dodging the fire from the angry beast even in the air.

The dragon in the meantime thrashed and roared on the ground, spreading its wings and taking flight. The chain attached to the collar on its neck prevented it from getting too far from the nest though. It only made the beast angrier. Now amber orbs of malice stared at Harry with enough fury to melt rock. He had a sickening feeling settle in his stomach.

" _A war is not won by defending,"_ Henry suddenly spoke, " _the dragon holds the egg. Attack it if you wish for victory."_

"Shut up," Harry hissed. Though even he was forced to recognize the point his Heroic Spirit made. He was not going to get the egg while circling the beast. He needed to think of the way to get the prize and fast. It seemed like the dragon was on the verge of smashing the arena into bits. He could only hope that reinforcement spells would hold. An idea occurred to him. Harry took out his wand and levelled it at the nest.

"Accio golden egg!" he incanted. To his utter bewilderment, the egg did actually sail to him through the air. He never actually expected the spell to work. What would be the point of the task based on retrieving something, if it could just be summoned by a fourth-year spell? Apparently, Hermione was right in her assessment of wizards and their common sense, or lack of it as it were. The egg was in his arms now. The task was over.

He was already celebrating victory when a large _clang_ was heard. Harry looked down and saw the dragon get into the air, the chain lying in pieces on the arena.

Crap.

There was little one could do when facing a dragon. Harry decided to get higher in the air and squeezed as much speed as he could from his Firebolt. Dragons were fast flyers. He couldn't hope to match their speed even on the best of brooms, but he could outmanoeuvre the horntail. Decision made, Harry directed his broom to the castle and prayed that he wouldn't be thrown in Azkaban after this.

" _Let me help you."_

"Go to hell," Harry snarled as he was circling around many towers of Hogwarts, the horntail hot on his heels. Its large body, just like Harry, predicted was a great disadvantage in this environment as the dragon constantly bumped into a tower or a piece of roof. Harry could only sigh in relief as the stone stood strong against the beast. The ancient protective enchantments were holding strong it seemed.

The dragon released another jet of deadly flame, which Harry barely evaded. He could feel exhaustion settling in. He needed to end this chase, which meant going to the only people who could subdue the beast. To the arena it was.

As soon as Harry got close to the arena streams of red spells, stunners most likely assaulted the dragon. Harry heaved a sigh of relief. It was over at last.

" _Careful!"_

Harry didn't even have the time to process the statement and come up with a snarky reply when his world exploded in pain. It felt like someone was flaying his back and methodically breaking every bone in his spine. The metal scent of blood filled his mouth as the warm liquid rose from the lungs making him cough.

Land met him with another explosion of agony, for he landed on his already damaged back. The dragon landed near him. The red light of multiple stunning spells was assaulting it, but the effect was taking much longer to manifest. With mounting horror, Harry realized that he could not move any of his limbs. The fall or the hit must have severely damaged his spine. He was helpless before the beast which was rearing back, flames filling its mouth.

" _Use the seal, Harry!"_

The pain that had his entire body on fire seemed to have burned through his feud with Henry. He opened his mouth, but only blood came from it. Harry realized he was about to choke on his own blood.

" _Think the command in your mind! Faster!"_

The raging wall of fire was almost upon him. Harry closed his eyes.

 _Protect me... please._

" _Granted."_

He felt shame as his hand was lifted by the will other than his own and voice that belonged to Henry incanted:

"Mortuus Tutamen!"

Harry opened his eyes to find a small spark in his hand ignite into brilliant emerald flames, that surrounded his body in a protective dome. The flame cleared, leaving behind only a shining green barrier. Dragon fire clashed against it helplessly, washing away like water against rocks. At this moment Harry could feel something foreign in his body and in his mind. It was loneliness. A tremendous void that swallowed entire worlds. Utter crushing loneliness. Where did it come from?

The dragon was subdued eventually and the barrier dropped that instant. To his great surprise, Harry found that he could move his limbs again. That was a relief. He hated the feeling of hopelessness. Hated it with passion. And he also never wanted to feel that loneliness. It evaporated almost instantly after the barrier did, so Harry had a guess as to its origin.

As soon as it was safe, a team of dragon handlers surrounded him, applying first aid. They later made way for a rather pale Madam Pomfrey who levitated him to the Hospital wing.

"Dragons," she muttered. "What were they thinking, sicking these beasts on children… At least there are no permanent injuries, which is frankly amazing, Mr Potter," the woman glanced at him. "Even your survival after that landing is nothing short of a miracle."

Somehow Harry doubted it, considering what Henry said.

-xxx-

After applying all sorts of bandages and spells all over his body Madam Pomfrey Have Harry a sleep draught and refused to even pay attention to his protests. As a result, he woke up some hours later, in the middle of the night judging by how dark it was. His bones felt like they were itching… Probably skelegro. At least this time around Harry didn't have to taste the vile concoction. Pomfrey probably gave it to him at some point after he lost consciousness.

"Your plan was good," Henry appeared in a chair near his bed. Harry turned away from the spirit and closed his eyes. "Are you still mad at me?"

"No," Harry muttered into the pillow.

"Really?" Henry asked in obvious surprise. "Well, as much as I hate saying it, I did want to help you come up with a better plan. No matter, what's done is done."

Harry just couldn't force himself to look the spirit in the eye. Instead, he borrowed his head, the only part of his body that was not paralyzed by Pomfrey's charms, further into the pillow.

"I admit, I was a little too strict…" Henry sighed. "But to be honest, even after all the years I lived, patience is still not my strongest side. Look, I feel like I'm confessing to my first love or something…" Henry muttered. "Can we talk normally?"

"Fine," Harry turned to face the spirit, though he made sure not to meet the man's gaze.

"I don't want you to die, Harry," Henry said, leaning back in the chair and turning to look at the moon which was peeking through the windows. "So I hope we can put this incident behind us and continue our partnership. You have proven yourself to be more capable than I thought, the idea to summon the egg was a good one, so I will treat you with respect if you agree to do the same."

"Okay," Harry said quietly.

"I'd wager a guess that you are quite miffed by your loss," the spirit said all of a sudden. "To get the egg and outfly a dragon, only to receive a swing to your back because of celebrating early victory… I can understand that you feel ashamed…" Henry spoke softly.

"How the hell do you understand?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide how bitter he felt..

"I am very old, Harry," Henry sighed. "I have been in such situations and paid a price for my stupidity. A very steep price," the spirit's voice was dull and dead by the end of the phrase. It reminded Harry of that feeling of loneliness he felt when the green barrier was active.

"Were those your emotions I felt when…" he looked at the spirit for the first time.

"You felt that, didn't you," Henry turned to face Harry. "I suppose there's no use denying it. It was probably a side-effect of me taking control of your body. I won't explain emotions themselves though."

A veil of silence settled over the hospital wing as Harry and his future self sat there, each consumed by their own thoughts. Harry was the one to break the quiet.

"Sorry…" he said. "I should've listened to you instead of accusing."

"Yeah, I probably should have been more patient with you then," Henry gave him a lifeless smile. "I am the adult here after all... You should go to sleep," the spirit said. "Oh by the way, since it was I who healed your spine and not your own magic, you might need some time to truly get in control of your limbs again," Henry finished and dissipated in black smoke.

Harry decided not to bother with the spirit's parting words right now and simply closed his eyes, surprisingly sleep claimed him fast. It was uneasy, and in the morning he woke up rather dizzy.

-xxx-

It was bright when he woke up again. Probably midday considering that he could see the sun high over the horizon. The air was fresh, Madam Pomfrey must have opened a window at some point. Harry was grateful, he didn't like stale atmosphere, it reminded him too much of his old cupboard. He wanted to turn around, but whatever paralyzes charms the matron put his body under were still working. The only thing he could do was stare at the vaulted ceiling and hope that Pomfrey would check up on him soon. Harry didn't have to wait long as the nurse came into the wing and went straight to his bed.

"You're awake, Mr Potter, good," the woman nodded as he greeted her, and waved a wand over his body. "Well, it seems Skelegro has fulfilled its purpose, I should be able to unfreeze you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, tomorrow," the nurse fixed him with a glare. "Your bones need to grow somewhat stronger. Especially your ribs, they were a right mess. Both lungs punctured, almost every bone in your body shattered, multiple tendons torn. A miracle your spine was safe, I would never have been able to fix it."

"You wouldn't have been?" Harry stared at the nurse in shock as the implications of that settled in.

"No, Mr Potter, mending spine is beyond even a magical healer's capabilities," the nurse replied. "And without it, I hope you understand you would never have been able to use any of your limbs again. What were those morons in the Ministry thinking! To sic dragons on children! I'd like to see them face a beast like this," Pomfrey muttered in agitation.

The otherwise unique sight of the Hogwarts matron swearing was lost to Harry though. He just stared out of the window. The lack of movement was already irritating, he could not even imagine laying on a bed like this the rest of his days. The prospect chilled him to the bone. And the only reason he was not a cripple was apparently Henry… Damn, he forgot to thank the spirit.

"Now, Mr Potter, you will spend some time here and stay on your bed," Pomfrey concluded, putting her wand away. "Your food will have delivered to you and fed using specialized charms. And don't even try arguing, Mr Potter."

Harry stared at the nurse for a long moment, before he scowled. "Fine."

"Now rest, Mr Potter," Pomfrey said, "or even the most powerful wizard of our era won't be enough to stop me from tying you to that bed for a week."

With that, the stern nurse went to her office. As soon as the door closed, Henry materialized in the visitor chair and snorted in amusement. Now Harry's scowl was directed at the spirit.

"Is there something funny?" he muttered in annoyance.

"No," Henry shook his head, still amused for some reason. "I've just considered the last phrase Madam Pomfrey said. Isn't it funny… I probably am the most powerful being in the world right now. My source of sustenance is literally limitless and even Nicholas Flamel would lose to me in terms of knowledge," the spirit gave a bitter smile, while Harry was busy considering the implications. "Yet, I am confined to using just words. Oh the farce…" Henry shook his head.

"Is this an old man thing?" Harry asked with uncertainty, which prompted a laugh from the Heroic Spirit.

"If only you knew, Harry, if only…" Henry replied.

"I should probably thank you," Harry looked at his older self, "for saving me from the dragon and healing me. I can't imagine being stuck like this for life," he glanced at his prone form and closed his eyes.

"You really needn't thank me, Harry," Henry replied. The spirit sighed. "Had I been a better teacher, it would have never happened. I would have found a way to break through your impatience and make you understand. I was going to teach you disillusionment so that you could sneak around the dragon while distracting it."

"But it would've smelled me, wouldn't it?" Harry asked. Finally, a good topic which didn't involve all this stupid blame-placing. "Dragons have a good sense of smell after all."

"There were three dragons and three champions before you in the same arena, the smell would have been a nauseating mess even for a werewolf," Henry shook his head. "And if you were to go first, we could have devised our own way of introducing a foreign smell to confuse the dragon."

"Clever," Harry sighed. "Still risky though."

"Yeah, probably would've included your broom into the plan after your talk with Moody," Henry nodded.

"Ahh," Harry whined, "I wish I could bloody move!"

"Patience," Henry smirked. "Perhaps you'll surpass me in that department. In any case, now that the dragon is behind us, let's discuss your training. I think we should add more hexes and curses to your spell repertoire. Transfiguration could use some improvement as well, but that's more of a long-term plan…"

-xxx-

Hermione came the following evening. Harry and Henry had had a most productive discussion by then, interrupted only by lunch, which Harry was fed by a spell. It was one of the most humiliating experiences in his life, that he prayed he would never repeat. Even if it meant training from dawn to dawn.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Hermione sat in Henry's chair as they dubbed it.

"About as well as it looks," he looked at his body. "It's mostly healed though, but Madam Pomfrey insists I spend a day like this to help my bones grow stronger."

"That's good to hear," the girl sighed. "You have no idea how worried I was. In fact, everyone was horrified when they saw the horntail strike you."

"I was careless," Harry huffed. "If not for Henry's help…"

"Was… Was that green barrier his doing?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied quietly.

"Did you two get along then?" the girl asked, shifting in her chair.

"Yes, we had a chance to talk after I first woke up," Harry nodded.

"That's good to hear," Hermione smiled. She suddenly got up and started rummaging through her bag. At last, she pulled out a thin book and placed it in her lap. "I have finally managed to find the Tale of the Three Brothers," she said with excitement.

"Really?" Harry would have sat up if he could.

"Yes, would you like to hear it?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, anything's better than just lying around," Harry grumbled.

"Very well. There once lived three brothers…"

It took approximately half an hour for Hermione to finish the tale. It was quite generic as far as fairy tales went. Three powerful protagonists, two of which died because of their arrogance and one survived because of his wisdom. The question was how it pertained to the Master of Death. As if on cue Henry appeared.

"Ah, at last," the spirit looked at the book, "I was beginning to wonder when you were going to find that story."

"It was not in the section I expected it to be in," Hermione blushed in embarrassment. "Someone put it in the magical maladies section instead of folklore section. I spent several weeks just skimming through the library and only found this one on accident."

"In any case," Henry said as he sat in a conjured chair, "you probably want to know what I have to do with the story, right?" the spirit glanced at the entrance and with a wave of his hand a wave of magic washed over the three of them. "It will prevent anyone from paying us any attention or overhearing my words. As for the story… Well, you both remember the three gifts from Death the brothers received?"

"The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility," Hermione recited. "Do you mean you have them?"

"Yes," Henry took out his wand, an ornate piece of wood decorated with elderberries, a ring appeared on his hand and a cloak was suddenly draped over his shoulders. "It is said in the legend, that should one man unite all three Deathly Hallows, they would become the Master of Death. That is exactly what happened to me."

"I don't understand," Harry shook his head, or at least tried in his immobilized state, "why did that make you a legend? Did you do something with them afterwards?"

"You could say that," Henry replied with hesitation. "I can't say any more, but suffice to say, I am a very powerful wizard.

"So are the Hallows your Noble Phantasm?" Hermione gave the spirit a look full of curiosity and enthusiasm.

"Yes," Henry replied. "The Elder Wand, to cast absolute spells that none can block, the Ring to call the dead to my service and the Cloak, the perfect concealment. They serve me and me alone."

"Wait a second," Harry looked at the Cloak closer, "it's my dad's!"

"Yes," Henry nodded. "The Cloak of Death was passed down in our family from father to son. Potters are very distant descendants of the third brother, Ignotus Peverell."

"I've never heard that name before," Harry hummed and got a blunt stare from the spirit.

"When have you ever been an expert on history, Harry? Or even society which you claim to be a part of?" Henry raised that damn eyebrow of his, making Harry scowl. "Peverells are a very old family, they ceased to exist a very long time ago. It is of no surprise that virtually none know their name these days."

"I think we've strayed from the initial point," Hermione interrupted. "You can't have become a legend just because of collecting artefacts. There must be something more."

"You have always been very sharp, Hermione," Henry looked at the girl with a smile. Harry was finally able to deduce what was behind it — nostalgia. What was the deal with it? "You are right but I'm afraid I can disclose no more."

Silence descended upon the hospital wing. For once, it was peaceful silence, as everyone was contemplating something. Henry's nostalgic smile directed at Hermione made Harry remember that feeling of loneliness he experienced when the spirit took control over his body. He couldn't help trying to discern the reason behind it. Surely he wasn't left alone, not with how fondly Henry always remembered Hermione. Then there should have also been Ron and the other Weasleys, not to mention his own family. That had always been Harry's goal: to have a loving family. A new wave of determination washed over him, reinvigorated by his dream, he would survive it all, no matter what destiny threw at him. He chuckled at that… It really was a farce, to need the help of a Heroic Spirit, Master of Death no less, for such a simple wish.

"What's so funny, Harry?" Henry asked, apparently distracted by his amusement.

"It's nothing," Harry replied, a small smile still lingering on his lips. "I just found myself agreeing with something you said earlier when I first came to it. And to have to agree with you on this makes it even funnier…"

"It feels like I'm missing some context," Hermione said.

"It's unimportant really," Henry waved his hand dismissively. "In any case, I think we should let Harry sleep. He is going to need all his strength tomorrow. I don't intend to wait with restarting your training, Harry," the spirit stood up and vanished his chair.

"Agreed," Harry nodded.

"You can't really think of resuming all your exercises so soon after an injury this fatal, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"My body's fine," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "Even Madam Pomfrey said so."

"I'll watch," Hermione huffed. "And the moment you feel bad, should that happen, I will drag you here myself!"

"Hermione, I can take care of myself," Harry argued.

"No, no you can't," Hermione was adamant it seemed. "You are too rash and don't pay nearly enough attention to your physical well-being when you have a goal in mind."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but the spirit beat him to it.

"While it is somewhat correct," Henry said with a smirk, "you really needn't worry, Hermione, I will look after my student. Missing classes would be a bad idea at that point, besides, weren't you supposed to be Harry's eyes and ears among the school population?"

"Considering that you are a future version of Harry, it doesn't reassure me all that much," Hermione replied, frowning. "Still, I suppose I should continue to observe the school."

"By the way, take the Marauder's Map, it's in my trunk, at the very top," Harry added. "It'll probably be of more use to you to keep an eye on the school in general than to me with all the training."

"Yes, that's a very sound idea," Henry nodded. "Why Harry, it seems like you're becoming more observant."

"Just common sense," Harry mumbled.

"Alright, I should probably go," Hermione said, standing up. "I expect to see you tomorrow, Harry, Henry, goodbye."

"Bye, Hermione," Harry smiled. "Now what am I supposed to do the rest of the day?"

-xxx-

Ron came the next day. The ginger was clearly nervous if the way his hands fidgeted was any indication. The boy walked to Harry's bed and sighed. Fortunately, Harry was no longer paralyzed, though Pomfrey still refused to let him go just yet. Apparently, she wanted to keep him in the hospital wing until evening.

"Harry, I reckon those who put you into the Tournament really wanted you dead," Ron said.

"Good to know it only took a dragon for that revelation to happen," Harry replied dryly. Henry was rubbing off on him. This time he wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

"Listen, Harry, I'm sorry," Ron spoke. Nervousness and hesitation were obvious in his voice. Harry looked at his supposed best friend, the boy was indeed sorry, at least from what he knew of Ron and the boy's habits and character.

"I can forgive you, Ron," Harry said. "We've been through thick and thin together, I really do want our friendship to go back to how it was before the whole damn Tournament. But… It's just not possible."

"Why?" Ron looked like someone had kicked him in the gut.

"Because, Ron, I simply can't trust you like I used to," Harry, on the contrary, was quite calm. "Not after whatever it was you've been spreading behind my back, not after you didn't tell me about Hagrid's invitation, not after you just flipped on me after my name came from the Goblet. Our friendship just can't continue."

Ron hung his head and sighed. "I… think I understand."

"But we can start from scratch," Harry suggested. Some part of him that was slowly withering since the selection ceremony became once again alive when Ron smiled.

"Hi, I'm Ron Weasley," the ginger offered Harry his hand.

"Harry Potter," Harry shook it.

"Wanna talk about quidditch?"

"I don't really have anything better to do, so why not?"

" _Well, you can be mature when you want to,"_ came Henry's voice.

-xxx-

It had been two weeks since Harry's release from the confines hospital wing. His training started without any delay or reprieve. Henry refused to go easy on him after Pomfrey declared Harry fully healed. He had to dodge curses, duel and learn whatever theory the spirit taught him. It was just as hard as it was before, but now Harry was determined not to allow the repeat of the incident with the dragon. He never wanted to feel so helpless ever again. It did also help that Henry wasn't constantly insulting him, only every other minute.

The air of the crisp December morning was fresh and biting with patches of snow here and there, so after the morning exercises were finished, Henry applied a warming charm on Harry but did not immediately send him to the castle.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Can you feel it?" Henry looked around. "We are being watched… by a Heroic Spirit no less."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "How is this possible? I thought Heroic Spirits weren't supposed to be summoned in this world."

"That's true," Henry gave him a brief nod. "Still, it is possible to summon a spirit with the right catalyst. You had your first wand on your person during the ritual, it was enough to get me. Theoretically, one could obtain a similar catalyst and summon a Heroic Spirit. They would need to know the ritual though."

"But there was only one book in the library on the subject," Harry said, now also alert and looking for their uninvited spectator. "Hermione still has it."

"I don't see Hermione summoning a Servant just to spy on you," Henry replied. "Of course I also don't think she would be able to sustain a spirit of my calibre. Before you ask how you manage to do so, you don't. I have other ways of maintaining my form and power. We obviously can't rule Hermione out but perhaps the book was stolen. When was the last time you saw it?"

"A long time ago…" Harry frowned. "I'll ask Hermione when I get to the castle. More importantly, can you tell what kind of spirit is spying on us?"

"That's a tricky question," Henry shook his head, "I can feel their presence and their power. They clearly have no intention of hiding either. This spirit is strong. As strong as I am probably, which narrows down the list of suspects dramatically. Still, I won't be able to identify them unless I see them."

It was bad. Really really bad. Harry knew he was no match for Henry, even when the latter was holding back. To have someone else of that calibre running around was a daunting concept. It meant that he would probably have to use another seal at some point because Harry had this sneaking suspicion that whoever summoned another Heroic Spirit wasn't going to limit themselves to just spying.

"Crap," Harry swore. "If they aren't going to attack, let's get back to the castle."

"Agreed," Henry nodded.

* * *

AN: Some of you have been asking when Harry was going to face his wake-up call. Well, I hope you are satisfied. On another note, I am quite excited to add another servant to the mix.

AN2: Thanks to everyone who noticed that I used Nimbus instead of the Firebolt. I've corrected it.


End file.
